Luck
by Molten-Ashes
Summary: Two Neutrals decide to chance their luck.


Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers! or the vague Red Vs Blue referance/quote!

Please R&R

(Getting back into the groove of things again with a one-shot, since I haven't posted anything for a week shy of a month now...

Thanks to Ice Fata for looking it over!

Enjoy!)

* * *

"Give me a boost."

"Ok. I think you're attractive and though your personality could use some adjustment, I find that beautiful too…" a young mech reeled off with a bright grin as the two saboteurs stood in the back alley behind a warehouse, located deep in enemy territory.

"Not a moral boost you moron, I meant a physical one." The mirroring black and white snapped darkly, facing away from his partner as he stared up at the window he wanted to look in, doorwings flicking out to slap the offending mech on the faceplate causing a startled cry of 'Slagging Glitch!' from his partner's vocaliser. "Learn your lesson, Jazz."

"Oh, lighten up Prowl." The blue visored mech snorted, still in good humour, even though the Praxian had shut down his advances, kneeling down and cupping his servos together so that he could help his partner peer into the window a good height above them.

"I'll lighten up when the situation calls for it." The usually stoic mech growled, stomping a considerable weight onto the offered hands, making the music loving mech beneath him squeak quietly in moderate pain as the Praxian elegantly traced his servos up the wall as Jazz lifted with a grunt.

"Anything of note?" Jazz huffed, as Prowl moved to stand on his shoulders, the doorwinged mech peering into the dirty window, using a pristine white servo to scrape off the grime.

"Yeah, they need a window washer." The larger mech replied with no hint of sarcasm. "Other than that, no, just a few grunts playing cards."

"Great, mission's a dud." Jazz grumbled, trying to be discreet as he stared up at his partner's aft, taking image captures for later viewing.

"I fail to see how gathering energon to last us the journey to Polyhex is called a 'Mission'" Prowl sniffed, silently dropping back to the ground, both mech's plastering themselves to the wall as two guards wandered past, moaning about their duties.

Jazz sighed, "Let me have my fun, Prowler. The rubble of Praxus isn't exactly the best place to set up shop anymore."

The Praxian flinched subtly as they crept to another warehouse, both scavengers grinning brightly as they spotted the stockpiled energon glowing in the gloom, noticeable through the grimy window as they drew near. "Bingo!" Jazz crowed, dancing on the spot, fishing in his subspace for his lock picking tools.

The door was open in four breems, despite Jazz having boasted he could crack any of the locks in the compound in fewer than two, much to Prowl's private amusement/exasperation as the native Polyhexian spat curses and ranted at the door. They slipped in silently, closing the door quietly, scampering across the warehouse to stare up in awe at the giant cubes stacked to the ceiling brimming with the pink lifeblood of their race.

"We are going to be rich!" Jazz giggled, rushing up to pet one of the giant cubes lying ready for transport beside some machinery. Prowl followed him at a sedate pace, his doorwings spread wide, collecting data and drawing a mental map of the dark warehouse.

"Time is of the essence Jazz." Prowl reported, taking some tubing and a large briefcase like crate which opened up to reveal several stacks of empty energon cubes, ready to be filled from his subspace. "Let's just take what we need, have a drink, then go. The guard shift is going to change any breem."

"You worry to much buddy." The visored mech chuckled, piercing a hole in the giant cube and using the tubing Prowl offered him to feed the leaking energy into the smaller cubes they could carry, watching with satisfaction as the liquid drained from the stockpiled cube.

"I worry exactly enough for the both of us." Prowl sighed as they finished filling their rations, taking the tube from Jazz's offering servo to drink deeply, feeling his battle computer cycle on again once more as energy returned to his systems. "Primus, how far I've fallen." He muttered after he had finished, allowing Jazz to have his fill as his Battle Computer ran through the plans he had had to draw up without its use since the last orn, the hardware, unique to the Enforcer Commanders of Praxus having a fit to itself as it pointed out all of the terrible plot holes in his plans. "Some 'Noble upholder of the Law' I am."

"I'd just be happy you are alive after Praxus literally fell on your helm." The Polyhexian snickered, a petty thief that often made trips to their 'visitor' cells every so often, courtesy of Prowl.

"Hence why I have to trail around after your sorry aft," Prowl sighed, rubbing at his fractured chevron as his helm began to ache, kneeling down to stow the case of energon cubes in his subspace. "I repay my debts, especially after you saved my spark from getting blasted to smithereens."

Jazz couldn't help but laugh softly; yanking the tubing from the hole in the cube after the energy level had fallen past the incision. "Let's just be grateful I haven't steered us wrong yet. If that happens, then you can save my aft."

"You mean when." Prowl sniffed, examining his black and white plating, which now seemed to glow with a new lease of life after his drink from the energon, deep scratches and dents crisscrossing his once pristine armour that hadn't seen the inside of a wash rack since Jazz had dug him out of the Precinct's rubble some two decaorns ago. "Even you have to run out of luck sometime."

"Hey," Jazz snorted with a bright grin as they jogged back to the door, ready to bolt, his servo on the handle, "I'm made of luck."

"Good and bad luck are synonyms, in the great majority of instances, for good and bad judgment," Prowl said blandly. "Your multiple captures while in the process of thievery in Praxus would suggest bad luck, and thus, bad judgement. So, according to my Battle Computer, this is another such scenario."

"As if." Jazz scowled, rolling his optics beneath his visor as Prowl spewed out his 'Logical' facts again thanks to his battle computer coming back online, yanking the door open with a sour growl, "We're going to be just fine…"

"Stop right where you are, thief!" a low voice shouted as a rifle was shoved right into Jazz's olfactory sensor through the open door, courtesy of the Autobot team that had been taking a short cut back to the main base and had heard the commotion inside.

"Bad luck." Prowl chirped. "Bad Judgment. Bad Thief. I told you it was a bad idea to break into the Autobot Warehouses."

"Shut up Prowl."


End file.
